


Deep Purple

by lightning027 (orphan_account)



Series: Klance week 2016 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Klance Week, Klance Week 2016, M/M, School Dances, he she and they pronouns used for pidge lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lightning027
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance is nervous about attending his first Garrison Masquerade.</p><p>for klance week 2016, day 1: red/blue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Purple

“Which one? Blue? Or olive?” Lance asked, raising the costumes as he named off the colors. The blue outfit was a three-piece suit, waistcoat and blazer paired with a longer overcoat with a swallowtail detail, completely outrageous but also just so… Lance. The olive costume looked like something he had swiped from one of their professor’s rooms – it looked like a military uniform, decorated with a plethora of shiny pins. The pants to this ensemble were ridiculous, they looked almost like harem pants and didn’t match the top at all.

“If you wear that green monstrosity I’m charging you double for this,” Pidge replied, tinkering with a small device, the magnifying glass attached to their glasses making their eyes look positively huge when they looked at Lance.

“Yeah, the blue is more of a change from our uniform. Someone might recognize you in that green outfit,” Hunk added, working on another one of the small devices Pidge was making, placing the wires and computer board guts into a neat box that was then concealed in either a choker-style necklace, a tie, or a bowtie, then placed in a labeled plastic bag.

“It’s olive guys, if you don’t even understand the nuances of color, how am I supposed to trust your masquerade fashion sense?”  Lance whined, dramatically throwing the green outfit onto his bunk, and inspecting the blue suit closely.

The masquerade ball was a tradition at the Garrison, one of those strange traditions that started as one thing and then eventually morphed into something similar, yet at the same time, completely different. It had started as a school dance, a homecoming dance where all the returning students and new students could meet and mingle, get to know each other and get a feel for the school’s social system. But over the years, the date of the dance kept being moved further and further back, so that the decorating committee would have more time to prepare. The dance moved from September to October and with that came the kids that wanted to attend in costume. The decorations committee had run with it, changing the attire to allow for masquerade style dress. Over the years the disguises grew more and more complicated, from a mere mask to full on disguises. Girls would wear suits, boys would wear dresses. Wigs, hair extensions, and dyes became commonplace. A dedicated portion of the student body became masterful makeup artists. Shoes with hidden platforms were in high demand as were other body-shaping or shape-changing clothing. At the masquerade, you could be whoever you wanted.

And Pidge Gunderson had taken this to a whole new level, with their state-of-the-art voice-changing software. In previous years, many students had only been recognized by their voice, so Pidge had decided to put a stop to that – for a price, of course. Pidge was going to be so rich by the time the masquerade was over, they wouldn’t even need to go school anymore, they could just retire comfortably and live in Florida or something.

“Lance, you’re just nervous because it’s your first masquerade, and I understand that,” Hunk said. Hunk himself wouldn’t be participating in the masquerade portion, as he was on the decorating committee and got coerced into being a bouncer/ticket boy so the other members could enjoy their dance. Hunk acted like he didn’t mind, but Lance knew he was secretly really disappointed.

“I’m not nervous! I just need to look good. Really good,” Lance elaborated, hanging the blue suit up and smoothing away any wrinkles, tying his elaborate, feathered mask around the hanger.

“Why, there someone you want to impress?” Pidge smirked at Lance, a devious, taunting expression. Lance was pretty much convinced Pidge was evil, even though they had only known each other for a couple months.

“Not anyone in particular. I know my charm is hard to resist already, but ladies can’t resist a well-dressed man,” Lance leaned back on his bed, popping his collar for emphasis. Pidge rolled their eyes.

“How are you going to know who’s a lady and who’s not? Both boys and girls are gonna be wearing dresses,” Hunk pointed out. Lance rolled his eyes and made a shoving motion with his hand as if he could physically push Hunk’s suggestion away from him.

“Please. I can tell a girl from a mile away. It’s like, my sixth sense.”

Pidge snorted, covering their mouth to muffle their chuckles.

XXXXX

The night of the masquerade, Lance was panicking. He stood on front of the mirror meticulously trying to apply enough eyeliner that he looked mysterious, but not enough that he looked like he belonged in some band that wailed teenage angst anthems. His hand shook as he applied concealer, sweaty and wobbly. Lance wore his nerves on his sleeves. He’d never been to a dance before. Sure, he’d always danced with his family and he’s been to parties where there was dancing before, and he’d even taken ballroom dance that one summer when his older sister had dragged him along as her partner, but that didn’t mean anything! Maybe school dances were completely different! Especially something with as much tradition and secrecy as the Garrison Masquerade. Any kid that had ever wanted to be a pilot, engineer, com spec or otherwise had dreamed of dancing at the masquerade, meeting someone that took their breath away and swept them off their feet for one night and then disappeared the next morning, remaining a mystery until they revealed their identity on the announcement board, like everyone did a week after the dance.

Lance buttoned his dress pants, pulled on the boots he had bought, their three inch lift making him feel just a bit more confident. As he buttoned his stark white dress shirt, and clipped the navy blue voice-changing bowtie to his neck, Lance wondered if everyone felt this way before their first dance. He wondered if those stories of finding love were just pipe dreams as he secured his waistcoat, pulled on his blazer and his overcoat. It was a bit hot in all the clothes, but he wouldn’t look the same without all of the layers. He tousled his hair, the temporary black dye looking alien to him. It took him a pretty long time to get his green contacts in, and afterwards he had to touch up his makeup because of his watering eyes. Finally, he tied the mask tight behind his head.

“Lance, are you ready? You’ve been in there for hours, man, I need to use the bathroom!” Hunk yelled, desperation present in his shaky voice. Lance ran a hand through his hair. He looked like himself, but only slightly. He looked like a dream version of himself, a Lance that could only be present for one night and one night only.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Lance replied. His eyes went wide at the voice change – his voice was deeper, a pleasant baritone that felt like another’s words were spilling out of his mouth.

“Whoa, Pidge really did a good job!” Hunk said as soon as Lance exited the bathroom, a hand reflexively over his mouth.

“He really did. This is amazing!” Lance said, smiling. As he saw Hunk, as dressed up in his well-fitting black tux, some of Lance’s worries faded away, replaced by pure, radiant, excitement. He could be whoever he wanted at the dance, and there was no need to be nervous even – no one except Hunk knew who he was! To them he would just be the boy in the blue suit. And whether that boy was daring or shy or nervous or suave was yet to be seen.

“Yeah that’s great man, don’t wait up for me, go have fun!” Hunk said, ducking into the bathroom, leaving Lance alone.

Lance, now full of excitement, full of potential, full of enthusiasm, took a deep breath. He was ready.

He exited the dorm room he shared with Hunk and headed towards the lunchroom. It had recently been transformed into a completely different space, much like the students, taking on regalia for just one night. As Lance walked through the halls toward the space, he was met with his peers, all decked out in their finest disguises. Some he could see through clearly, even though they had tried. Others he couldn’t tell for the life of him, with hair that could have been a wig, or dyed, or just natural, eyes that could have been obscured by contacts, or could simple be that vibrant naturally. Who was the person in the gold suit, the iridescent peacock dress, the elaborate purple robes? Even the voices were obscured, and Lance noticed Pidge’s handiwork displayed proudly on many of the partygoers, their necks adorned with jewels or ties, vibrating as they spoke.

Lance was surrounded by beautiful, mysterious people, and he hadn’t even reached the lunchroom yet. Who knew what would happen to him in there? How would he know who to approach? In all of the stories, there was always one person that caught your eye, that made your breath hitch. And as Lance looked at the bodies in front of him, in line for the dance, he felt that way when he looked at almost all of them. He could feel others looking at him, their eyes curious, wondering who he could be. Any of them could be Lance’s mystery love, any of them could be the one he danced with throughout the night. The tension, the desperate plea for romance, hung throughout the entrance to the dance like a fog. 

Soon Lance had reached the front of the line, and then he was entering the dance, and the energy was like nothing he had ever felt.

Music thrummed through the room, and Lance could feel the bass in his chest, a mix between techno-electronic beats and the sweet symphony of classical music. On the floor, some groups danced together laughing, obviously not trying to hide their identities from each other anymore, having found their friends. Others danced together, in pairs, some looking as if they’d found their partner, others nervous and fumbling. And still others milled about, conversing by the snacks or standing forlorn, leaning against the wall, their prince charming never sweeping them off their feet.

The lump of nerves was back, Lance could feel it in his throat, in the way sweat clung to the gloves he was wearing, in the way that his clothes felt too heavy on his body, the mask too heavy on his nose. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and he stepped onto the floor.

At first, he didn’t dance. He was trying to get to the refreshments, maybe to get something to make his throat feel less dry and tight, when a small figure in a bright green dress appeared, grabbing him by the hand.

“C’mon, dance!” They yelled, long brown hair flying in all directions as they twirled, their full skirt billowing out around them, almost knocking over a kid in a black robe. Instead of being irritated, however, the robed figure simply laughed and twirled themselves, grabbing the girl in the green dress by the hands and twirling together, almost lifting the smaller off their feet.

Lance smiled, a full, exhilarated smile, and twirled too, the swallowtails on his coat flying with him as a few more dancers around him cheered. Lance now confident, continued dancing, with whoever he could grab. He spun and dipped the girl in the green dress, who howled with laughter, obviously looking for fun more than romance, reminding Lance of his little sister, his heart squeezed with a bittersweet, homesick pang. He challenged the boy in the black robes to dance, both of them trying to outdo the other. A boy in a silver suit danced with him, taking the lead and sweeping Lance off his feet, but ultimately leaving for another partner, Lance waltzed with a gorgeous lady in a pink dress, but she left him as well, to dance with a girl in black.

Even when he didn’t have a partner, Lance danced, he spun, he struck poses and rolled his hips and did whatever he felt like to keep beat with the music, to keep up with the energy of the party. He howled with the others when the girl in green pulled Hunk onto the dance floor too, Hunk easily busting out his breakdancing moves as the rest of the dancers cheered him on, booing the teachers when they drug Hunk away finally, making him do his job.

But, eventually, Lance did have to stop dancing. If he got too dehydrated, he wouldn’t even make it past the second hour of the masquerade. He danced his way to the table that housed the drinks, pouring himself a plastic cup of water, downing it easily, and pouring another. Lance was so engulfed in preparing his drink, that when he turned, he didn’t notice the figure in the dress behind him, trying to get his attention, so he dropped his drink, spilling it all over the bowl of chips on the table.

“Oh, I’m sorry-“

“Shit, I didn’t mean to-“

“I guess it’s better the chips than your dress, beautiful,” Lance said, finally looking the other in the face, and the flirty smile he wore when he delivered the compliment was wiped away, replaced with a look of awe.

They wore a deep red dress with black lace detailing, a sweetheart neckline, and small straps that rested off their shoulders, exposing pale collarbones and a red jewel hanging at their throat. Their black gloves reached their upper arms, smooth silk contrasting beautifully. But it wasn’t their outfit that caught Lance’s attention.

They has long black hair that reached below their shoulders, and long bangs that feel into their deep purple eyes. Those eyes couldn’t naturally be that color – it had to be contacts, but Lance was mesmerized anyway. All framed by a delicate red mask, which matched the dress, and the color of their lips.

The dancer in red colored, cheeks turning as red as their dress. Lance felt his heart stop.

“I-what-you don’t just go around calling people beautiful!” the other argued, visibly flustered, clutching their dress so tight that their hands balled into fists, face turned away from Lance. The other’s voice was clearly feminine, an alto, but cracking a bit from nerves.

“I-Uh-Um,” Lance’s witty and skillfully suave retort stuck in his throat. “Want some punch?” he all but squeaked. The other looked up, and Lance could tell they had an eyebrow raised, the corner of their painted lips twitching in a smile as they noticed Lance, who was clutching onto the table for dear life, red from his cheeks to his neck, the blush disappearing under his shirt.

“Here I was, going to ask you to dance, but now I don’t’ think you could handle it,” the red dancer smirked, one hand on their hip. Lance could feel himself dying a bit inside. He has seen a great deal of beautiful people so far that night, but no one that was like this stranger in red. Beautiful, cute when they blushed, heart-stopping when they were like this, taunting him. He almost agreed with them – he might not be able to handle them without swooning and passing out.

“I-wha-I can handle it!” Lance sputtered. “I’ll dance you so good!”

Lance wasn’t really the best with words.

The stranger in red’s eyes went wide from embarrassment but they laughed still at Lance’s clearly flustered state, laying a hand on Lance’s shoulder to steady themselves.

Lance wouldn’t be laughed at by this gorgeous person. They might not want to dance with him! They might think he was just a loser!

Lance, determined to fluster them just as much as he was, placed his hand over theirs and raised their gloved hand to his lips, somehow maintaining eye contact all the while, probably because those purple eyes were too beautiful to look away from. He kissed their hand, the silk almost intoxicating on his lips.

“Then let’s dance,” Lance all but whispered, all of his energy having been put into that single kiss.

The red dancer looked away, clearly affected by the affection, but they nodded, squeezing the hand that held theirs.

Lance pulled them onto the dancefloor, a few dancers parting for Lance, nodding at him from his previous time on the floor, and few gaping at the mystery student in the dress as Lance led them closer to the center of the floor.

The song playing was slow enough that some couples were slow dancing, yet fast enough that others were rocking their bodies to the beat. Lance swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled his partner close, his hand clasped around theirs, luckily the gloves protecting each of them from the other’s nervous sweat. Lance wrapped his other hand around the red dancer’s waist, pulling them close. The other wrapped their hand around Lance’s shoulders, the silk glove sliding over the fine hairs at the back of Lance’s neck, making him shiver.

Lance began with a waltz. It was simple, it was easy, it had been engrained into Lance’s mind so that he could dance while on autopilot, which is just what he needed right now, as he felt like his chest was going to explode with emotion every time his partner looked at him. He didn’t know how two people could click this way this quickly, could find each other so beautiful so easily. They weren’t perfect partners – the stranger in red kept stepping on Lance’s feet, trying to lead, and cussing, but Lance found it cute and chuckled, only flustering his partner even more.

Eventually their dances changed, evolved with the music. A fast-paced salsa or mambo for the quicker numbers, where Lance’s partner quickly learned how to intuitively expect the movements, learning how to swing their hips like Lance did, spinning and moving like a flame, with power and fierce passion, clashing and blending with Lance, who danced fluidly, with a lazy grace and a sway of his hips, a natural talent where he ebbed and flowed like the ocean.

Even though Lance led the dance, the more they moved and learned each other’s bodies, the more that line blurred. The red dancer began to initiate the dips and spins, the blue dancer following, and the blue led the stepping portion of the dance, his hand on the red’s hips, partially to guide, but mostly to feel.

Their hands moved, switched positions, silk trailing over Lance’s chest and shoulders, rough but soft cotton ghosting over red’s arms, waist, the open back of their dress. Afterwards, partygoers would swear that they danced so perfectly in sync, so fast that they blurred into a deep purple.

Soon the music died down, quieted into a slow, sensual song, and both red and blue, still breathing heavily, fell into the position of a typical school slow dance, the red dancer with their hands wrapped around Lance’s neck, Lance with his left arm around his partner’s waist, the other on their back, feeling the heat there through his thin glove.

Lance sighed, partially out of relief that he no longer had to move so fast, and partially in bliss, as he pressed his forehead to that of his partner, who sighed in return, brushing their noses together.

They hadn’t talked much that night, at least not with words. It hadn’t really been needed, the way they danced speaking for itself. Lance could feel himself falling for this mystery person in the dress, and he could tell that they felt the same way. A kiss would be the logical progression, an expression of all the pent up attraction that had been building with each dance, with every time Lance swayed his hips, with every time the dancer in red threw their shoulders back, hands to the sky, neck long and exposed, soft hair waterfalling over their back.

But he was still tense, still wary. What if he was a bad kisser? What if that made his partner not want to dance with him anymore? What if-?

And the decision was made for him, as ruby red lips ghosted over the corner of his mouth, the red dancer gasping at what had happened, obviously as caught up in the moment as Lance, not realizing how close they were.

A spark ran through Lance’s body at that gasp, that soft press of lips. He pulled his partner closer desperately wishing that the hand on their back wasn’t covered by a glove so that he could feel their soft skin. He dipped his head just enough, and although their noses unintentionally squished together, Lance kissed his partner, who gasped again, against his mouth, before returning the kiss, winding a hand into Lance’s hair, the sensation making Lance moan and pull his partner closer, changing positions so their noses weren’t uncomfortably smashed together, the red dancer’s lips wonderfully soft against his own chapped ones, and although lipstick didn’t taste particularly good, he didn’t care, he didn’t care at all, because none of it mattered when he was pressed so close to someone so gorgeous and they were sucking on his bottom lip.

They broke away, and opened their eyes, blue and red both staring at each other, too stunned, too blissed-out, to talk. The red dancer opened their mouth finally, and started to speak-

But the music died. The lights came on. The dance was over and the moment was broken.

“Ah-bye,” The red dancer said, embarrassed, gathering up their dress and pulling away from Lance before anyone could notice their smudged lipstick, their slightly off-kilter mask.

Lance wanted to call after them, tell them to wait, but the words caught in his throat as he watched them run away, their kiss still stinging on his lips.

He never found out who the red dancer was. They never revealed their identity, so neither did Lance. And the next year they were gone, without a trace from the masquerade. Pidge and Hunk tried to reason that maybe the red dancer had simply changed costume, and was so skillful at hiding their identity that Lance just didn’t notice. But Lance would have known. He would have been able to tell.

The masquerade was everything Lance expected it to be. It was mysterious, and full of energy, and romantic, and bittersweet.

And Lance would never forget his red dancer, whoever they were.

**Author's Note:**

> so ao3 keeps not letting me post this fic, which i sped-wrote in 2 hours, all while my comma key wasn't really working soooo, yeah, enjoy! This weird masquerade fic that could be canon but probably isnt because it's just so weird.


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